


Triunity

by blackraspberryjam



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Cultural Differences, Culture Shock, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female Bilbo Baggins, Hobbit Culture, Multi, Polyamorous Hobbits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-05-01 08:18:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14516214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackraspberryjam/pseuds/blackraspberryjam
Summary: Happiness comes in threes or fours, as every Hobbit knows. The more in a grouping, the more there is to love. Even if Belladonna Baggins the Second, known best as Birdie, has yet to find even one partner, well there's always time to find your second and third.The most surprising thing to her just happens to be that she finds a decent match in a pair of brothers - dwarven brothers to be exact. They are very different from each other and yet so similar at the same time. As Birdie skirts around them, she finds both of them so very dear to her. Courting is another matter entirely.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pibroch (littleblackdog)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblackdog/gifts).



Every Hobbit knew that happiness came in threes or fours. There was even a tale running about the Took family of great Bullroarer Took and his seven partners. Many believed that was just a touch too many and happily settled with three. Every relationship had a different and beautiful dynamic to explore and when a coupling was greatly enhanced by a third, why should they not join together? Indeed, many happy triads roamed the Shire, interspersed with some quads and a few quinces. And, of course, there were those who did not yet find their matches.

Belladonna Baggins the Second, usually known affectionately as ‘Birdie’, had attempted to join pairs or triads for years. There had not been a dynamic right for her yet, although she had not left any broken hearts or hurt feelings behind. She simply believed that she had not found what was right for her even if the groupings were content enough. Instead of joining a triad as a tween, she found herself grown and heavily rooted as the local Eccentric instead.

It wasn’t that she terribly minded, really. She was the beloved storyteller of all the faunts in Hobbiton and she was well known for always having baked goods on hand for a quick teatime chat. She might take longer walking holidays than most and she might have been seen a few times practicing with a bow in her backyard, but stretching your legs does no harm and it was a gentleman’s sport to hunt, as her father had done before her.

It was somewhat debated if it was her parents who had nudged her into her Eccentricity. Belladonna and Bungo Baggins had been considered widely as one of those unusual couples. Not that simple pairs were especially rare, but most eventually found a third to join their number or matched with another pair. Birdie knew that they weren’t quite just a pair either, remembering the childhood visits of a wizard who fit in the household comfortably if it hadn’t been for the chandeliers. Birdie had entertained the thought of having magical heritage once or twice but she shared her nose with Bungo and was never any good with smoke rings.

Regardless, her parents were an odd couple, what with inviting their wizard friend often, of traveling here and there for the summer, and yet they were still so wonderfully respectable. Birdie had not seen Gandalf very often after her parents passing, but she could hardly fault him when he looked so weary just stepping over the threshold. Belladonna the First had taken her sword and had gone out into the Fell Winter. She returned wounded and passed away on the hearth. Bungo survived the winter but passed the following fall of simple heartbreak and a cough that refused to let go. Gandalf had come after their passing to offer Birdie some simple comfort, but even wizards weren’t always allowed their time to mourn, and he was called to the East.

And then, she was left alone. Birdie had not been of age, but she took the Baggins family mantle easily enough and grew into it wonderfully. She was a mediator, a mentor, a mother figure, and a really well-loved person, despite any traits that were a tad questionable. Her tomatoes won prizes every fall harvest and her lemon bar recipe was the most sought after in Hobbiton. Her birthday gifts were always touchingly thoughtful and unique and she always managed to pop over for tea when someone was having hard times to offer her help.

Birdie was a wonderful hobbit, but she hadn’t quite found the others that would make a wonderful match. After a time, she stopped trying to look for it, despite well-meaning aunts dropping stories of how they found their third late in life. Birdie never had the heart to remind them that they had never found a second so late. Sometimes, seeing hands clasped and young lovers blushing when offered dances at the spring festivals made her a little wistful, but she figured if it ever came, it would come.

Her gardener, Hamfast Gamgee had his own love, Bell Goodchild. Several times they offered to add her to their number, and while they loved each other truly, it wasn’t the type of love that lent itself well to partnership and Birdie spent her time watching their children instead and tutoring them occasionally. It would never be said that Birdie didn’t spoil their boys, Hamson and Halfred, and that she wasn’t proud as could be when Bell rounded with child again.

When Gandalf rounded the hill on a bright sunny spring day, Birdie was surprised, but she was also quick to grab her mail and open her door meaningfully. Gandalf hung his hat on a peg and Birdie fetched the tea kettle. They made the usual chit-chat, ignoring the fact that there were two large portraits of the past hanging above the fireplace in the next room that held many memories for the both of them.

“It’s been some time since you’ve made a stop.” Birdie said softly, no judgment in her voice. She poured Gandalf a cup and then one for herself. This blend was her own - lavender, rosemary, lemon balm, and mint.

“There’s been business that has called me to the East for some time,” Gandalf said, his startling blue eyes weary and worn. The plate of cinnamon cookies sat between them untouched, even though Birdie had thoughtfully kept the sugar cookies in the kitchen. They were her great-grandmother’s recipe but no one ever made them better than her father and although Birdie often served them with tea, she never ate them herself left they crumble and taste of ash in her mouth.

“Is there business that calls you West now?” She asked lightly.

“There is indeed,” Gandalf told her. “A quest to return a home to its true owners.”

Birdie was a bit hesitant, but let him weave his tale of dwarven kings with coin aplenty and how a crown jewel was lost among the wreckage left by a dragon. He continued with the battles to reclaim an old kingdom anew and the losses suffered. It was a truly interesting story, learning of the dwarven prince made king who led his people across the mountains. Then, Gandalf continued to say that the dwarven king would be leading his company to Birdie’s home and she couldn’t begrudge them a bit of rest and food, however late Gandalf sprung the idea onto her.

The more boggling aspect was that Gandalf had offered her a position in the company. As a burglar even! Now Birdie may have had a hand or two in sneaking out of the house as a tween or of pilfering some mushrooms, but she hadn’t stolen anything that wasn’t left open to being taken. A dragon clearly had no intention of sharing its hoard, unlike Hobbit matrons who understood the unspoken rule that any unattended treats were subject to be tested by fauntlings. Gandalf told her to think of the position and of what her views were and left as soon as he came. Birdie was thankful that he hadn’t brought up her parents’ inclinations, but it hung unspoken in the air regardless, like a wound that split whenever you used your limb, aching and regressed in healing that had only half started.

With the realization that she had company over the next night and had nothing prepared sent her into a bit of a tizzy. It was never said that she wasn’t a proper hostess, but it was hardly expected of her to host a whole troupe on such short notice. Still, she couldn’t let it be said that she didn’t try her hardest. Birdie was a Baggins of Bag End and always had something on hand.

The first thing she did was to fetch her gardener’s sons to pick up a long list of items from the markets for her with a bag of coins and the promise that leftover coins could certainly be used for candy. Hamfast laughed with Birdie on just how fast the boys hauled off to the markets. Bell offered to help but Birdie just kissed her cheek and reminded her that she was fit to burst and should be spending the day in a nice armchair and not on her feet baking a storm like Birdie planned to do.

Her day would be mostly devoted to baked goods and other items that needed some more preparations. It was already early afternoon, so Birdie knew she needed to stoke the stove and get to work, pulling her tawny locks into a loose knot at the base of her neck. Her mother used to braid it for her, pulling from her scalp and finely weaving near golden strands into soft plaits. Birdie’s hair had darkened since then, the strands changing to a deeper reddish hue that reminded her more of her grandmother Beryl than her father’s curls. Thinking about that brought her both pain and comfort.

With her sleeves rolled to her elbows and her father’s carefully written recipe cards out, she had made twice baked honey cakes, lavender and honey shortbread as well as plain sugar cookies, buttermilk scones and biscuits alike, three loaves of honey oat bread, two loaves of rosemary sourdough, two loaves of beer bread for dipping and sopping up sauces, seed cakes made with brandy and caraway seeds, an apple tart, and several varieties of fruit pies and one mince. Most of the savory items were set out, but the pies (blackberry, blueberry, strawberry rhubarb, and cherry), and other sweet baked goods were held back in the kitchen.

The day before her visitors were to arrive, she had worked on the items that needed to keep a touch warmer. She had cold cut meats like ham and salamis, hard cheeses and grapes, pickled cucumbers and green beans from last year’s harvest, a whole chicken roasted with oranges, a pot of rosemary beef stew, mushroom soup as well as tomato basil soup, sausage fried with potatoes and tomatoes, roasted root vegetables, salmon baked with mustard seed, a lamb roast studded with cloves, mashed potatoes with gravy, and a good deal of roast pork.

The ale kegs were rolled out from the back pantry, ready to be tapped, and she left a pot of rosehip tea on one of the sideboards, which was feeling very, very full. Nearly all of the table was filled with steaming food, as well as the sideboards, and the kitchen had extras of some items to be refilled later. Gandalf had indicated it was a large group, but Birdie wasn’t sure exactly how many dwarves were actually coming. Hopefully, this meal would be enough.

She rested well also knowing that she had eggs, sausages, bacon, and some fruits stashed in her second pantry as well as plenty of pancake mix for tomorrow’s breakfast. The bed were all turned up and aired out, fresh sachets smelling of sweet basil and rosemary tucked between the sheets. The last thing she did was to tame her hair into a long simple braid and to change into a clean set of clothes before the guests arrived. It was a plain skirt, but in a deep ruby red that reminded Birdie of the colors her mother preferred and trimmed with delicate lace.

The only thing left to do was to wait for whoever came and knocked on her door first, whether that be the dwarven prince himself or one of his entourage. This was the group that would sweep her away on one of those fabled adventures and by Yavanna, she would be ready for it.


	2. Chapter 2

The knock at the door was heavy and sure. Birdie steeled herself to open it, unsure of who would be the first to arrive. On the other side was one of the tallest beings she had seen, bar Gandalf. His gaze was strong, his features equally so. A crown of tattoos graced his bare head, but he had quite a beard and sideburns to make up for what his head lacked. He was clad in enough fur and armor that Birdie momentarily entertained the idea that he reminded her of a bear or perhaps a badger.

“Dwalin, at your service.” He said in a deep rumble, bowing slightly but keeping his eyes fixed on her. She nodded in return.

“Birdie Baggins at yours.” She greeted. “Won’t you come in?” She said, gesturing behind her. He moved past her a little more brusquely than she might have imagined and she was quick to stop him before he headed down the hall. “One moment!” She cried. “Would you mind removing your boots? They’re a bit muddy.” Birdie said, glancing downwards.

Dwalin looked down also, almost as if just noticing that his boots were indeed tracking mud across the entry. He carefully shifted them off and kicked them to the side with his stockinged feet. He also went a step further and removed some of his outer furs to place on the pegs, but Birdie noticed that he left his weapons on. That was well enough and she smiled gratefully at him, despite his stony silence.

“There’s plenty of food in the dining room.” She said, leading him further. They stopped at the open entryway to the dining room and she fretted slightly. “I was unsure of your number, but I hope that I’ve prepared enough.” Dwalin’s eyes were a touch widened and he nodded.

“Aye, this will do.” He said quietly. Birdie gestured him in.

“You might as well start. I’m not sure when the rest will be arriving.” Dwalin nodded again, taking a place at the table as Birdie returned to the kitchen for a moment to make sure the extra stew on the stove was peacefully simmering and not boiling up. There was a second knock at the door in just a few moments.

“Coming!” She called, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. She peeked into the dining room to see Dwalin happily eating some sugar cookies that were placed on the sideboards and she smiled. A gruff thing, but cookies could soften anyone, she supposed.

Behind the door was, of course, another dwarf. This one wasn’t quite as imposing, and instead, he had a soft smile on his face, just above a large, white beard. He wore a coat of dark red, almost like Birdie’s own dress and she could tell he was a touch older than she but there was enough youth in his eyes to suggest the difference wasn’t by much.

“It looks like it might rain.” He suggested. Birdie poked her head out slightly. 

“Possibly.” She agreed.

“Balin, at your service.”

“Birdie Baggins at yours.” She returned. “Please take your boots and coat off at the door.”

Balin went to greet his brother in the dining room, at least the one she believed to be his brother with the similar names and the fact that they had greeted each other as such, and Birdie answered the new knock at the door. This time there were two behind the door. They were similar height, but the brunette was a toucher taller if he was skinnier as well. The blonde had a full mustache and some beard while his partner had the bare growths of one. Both of their eyes were tinged with mischief that looked like many cousins of Birdie’s.

“Fili,” Said the blonde.

“Kili,” Said the brunette.

“At your service,” Said the pair, bowing as one.

“Birdie Baggins at yours.” She returned. “Did that take much practicing?”

“Oh, not much at all,” Kili said, smiling, passing her. “Brothers,” He said with a shrug. He lifted his foot as if to scrape it on her mother’s glory box and Birdie pulled him back by his shoulder gently.

“Not a boot scrape.” She told him gently as if she were talking to the neighbor boys. “But feel free to take off your boots and your coats. Food is down the hall.” Both left her standing there and she smiled with a huff. Youngsters.

The next knock was even louder, and when she opened the door, she had to suddenly jump back when a whole troupe of doors fell before her. There were different writhing forms and there were so many dwarves piled at her feet, she had hardly a chance to catch their names and features as they passed. Birdie did notice the wizard behind them, however.

“Boots and coats off please!” She called after them before they should track mud over the halls. “You may keep your hat on if you like but I fear you may find it dragging along the ceiling,” Birdie teased Gandalf, who did remove his hat.

The party was underway in her dining room and a festive one at that. Food was being passed along merrily and the drink flowed freely, which Birdie was pleased to see. Smiles on every face were a sign that she was doing well.

“Is this everyone then?” She asked Gandalf. He made what seemed to be a quick mental count before he shook his head.

“It appears our leader has not yet arrived.”

“He’s meeting with delegates from the Iron Hills,” Balin said with a tilt of his head. Birdie nodded hers in return as thanks before grabbing a plate and snagging some of the better pieces. Once she had a decent load, she took it to the kitchen and put it in the oven, which was still fairly warm from some last-minute preparations. From the dining room door, she watched the festivities and thought about how glad she was that she had used some of her more hardy crockery and dishware as they tossed the empty plates about. She might have been more worried if it weren’t for every dish landing neatly on a sideboard.

A loud knock on the door quieted the group and Birdie brushed her skirt off quick before going to answer it. Once she had pulled open the great door, there stood a tall dwarf with thick black hair and traces of grey in his short beard. He held himself regally and Birdie could make no mistake about who he was.

“Welcome, Thorin Oakenshield, to my home. Your party is waiting for you,” She said, opening the door wider to allow him in. “Please take your boots and coat off. The dining room is to your right.”

Thorin seemed puzzled for a moment but nodded his head in deference and followed her orders. Birdie went and fetched the plate she had gathered and set it before him just as he sat down at the head of the table. He thanked her in a low grumbly voice and the festivities began again, although the laughter was quieter.

As Birdie went to return to the kitchen, her arm was gently touched. She turned to see Dwalin with a confused look on his face.

“Yes?” Birdie asked, her face neutral but her mind a touch confused.

“Did you not take yourself a setting?” He asked, gesturing to the group. Indeed, the table was only set for the fourteen that sat around it. Birdie shook her head, surprised by his concern.

“Oh no, I have already tasted most of it. It’s more important to me that you all have something to eat. You’ve been on the road for some time to get here.”

“It is important to us that our host enjoys herself as well,” Dwalin said. He released her arm and moved to the other room. Birdie was confused as to what he needed to do in the study but when he returned with her father’s chair from his writing desk, she smiled amusedly.

“I suppose I won’t begrudge you if you’ve done the work of bringing it out,” She said as he set it at the table where there was an open space. As Birdie sat down, she was surprised when Dalin tucked the chair in for her before he went to sit in his spot across the table. She smiled at him gratefully before turning to listen to her dining companion.

“Don’t mind him too much, dear,” Balin told her, now that she was seated to his right. “It’s just a shame to not have all at the table when there is plenty to share.”

“I wasn’t meaning to be rude,” She said a bit sheepishly, fearing that she offended them. “I didn’t wish to intrude.”

“There is no intrusion! Why should the host not be included in the feast?” His eyes smiled along with his mouth and Birdie found herself returning one.

The rest of the evening went well enough, she would suppose. Once the meal was cleaned up, Thorin spoke of the quest. It seemed that their brethren from the Iron Hills wished to offer no aid, but Birdie felt that was understandable. Not many wished to go up against a dragon. When she was offered the contract to steal from one, well Yavanna knows what pressed her to read over it thoroughly and to actually consider it as if it was about a rental agreement in Hardbottle instead of a near death wish?

Most of the finer details were well and fine and the more her eyes glossed over the legal jargon, the more her eyes slipped to the company before her. They had taken to the living room and the den spread out over armchairs and sofas. Some had taken out mending or whittling or some other activity to keep their hands busy and their minds blissfully quiet. Birdie understood the need, what with her lace tatting supplies being tucked away in a basket by her favorite armchair.

Its occupant was Dwalin, who had taken to sharpening a small knife in front of the fire. Birdie was not exactly a stranger to weapons, as her father had taught her how to shoot a steady arrow and how to dress your catch and her mother had shown her how to use well-placed knives or any other items in reach to defend herself. Dwalin’s motions were short and precise, making the point sure and strong. 

His strong countenance was lit from the fire and the furrow of his brow was strong but in a concentrated way. His eyes reflected the flames and Birdie wondered if she had noticed what color they had been. His brother’s were a soft brown, she had seen. They were comforting when Balin’s smile was and Birdie thought of the saying that eyes were windows to the soul.

When she realized she had been looking for far too long, her eyes snapped back to the parchment in front of her. Yet, her mind still lingered and she wondered if the scene before her might be played again on the road. Once bedrolls were set out and the fire was started, would there be this comforting silence, with only the crackling of the fire and the soft sounds of a knife against wood or whetstone to accent it?

Birdie was loathe to admit it, but even though she had plenty of guests for tea or for dinner parties, her evenings were usually more lonesome than she’d like. She’d have a pot of tea at her elbow and a book in her hand but there was never a warm body near her. She had fully enjoyed the company tonight and she felt that maybe she would be able to stand them on the road as well.

It was difficult to think of the situation they had come from. Their home lost to fire and flame while Birdie seemed to lose the light in her own when her mother first came home dripping blood over the threshold. However, she still had a roof over her head, even if many rooms were left vacant. They had none of that. Yet Erebor was a hope to regain what they had lost a lifetime ago. Before she realized quite what she was doing, Birdie’s hand was flourishing across the bottom of the page to sign ‘Belladonna Baggins the Second’.

Once all was set and the contract was rolled up and put away, she busied herself with setting everyone to bedrooms. While she had quite a few, there would still need to be some sharing involved. Gandalf kept his alone, in the room where Birdie’s parents had slept years ago. The bed was always much larger than two hobbits could fill by themselves.

Bofur, Bifur, and Bombur opted to share a room and Oin and Gloin took the one to their left. Fili, Kili, and Thorin took the room across the hall and Dori, Ori, and Nori took the last guestroom. Of course, there was little for it, Birdie supposed. She simply didn’t have enough room anywhere else so she propped open the door to her own room and ushered Balin and Dwalin in.

“There are more blankets in the closet if you find it too cold,” She assured them as they thanked her for the lodging. She just smiled in return before going back to the kitchen. Birdie was both mortified and somewhat pleased that her guests had cleaned up after themselves so well but there was still a bit more for her to do.

She put away her dishes, as her company couldn’t have been expected to know which cupboards held them, and cleaned up some remnants of cooking, like stray carrot tops from her stew and strewn eggshells. She also started a pan of overnight oats for the morning and took stock to make sure that none of her guests had nipped into her pantry.

Just as she began a pan of cinnamon rolls, she felt a presence behind her. She breathed a sigh of relief when it was Dwalin, although she really should have expected it to be one of her guests. Dwalin’s face was not the brightest though, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth set.

“Is everything alright?” Birdie asked, her hands paused mid-knead.

“There are several personal items in the room,” He said lowly.

“Yes?” Birdie said, setting the dough back in the bowl.

“You have given us your own bed, haven’t you?”

“Yes.” Birdie admitted.

“I won’t begrudge a host her bed,” Dwalin said strongly.

“It’s alright,” She insisted. “I have too much on my mind and too much to do to sleep right away regardless. You fellows have plenty of sleep in a real bed to catch up on.”

Dwalin’s face didn’t change for a while, almost to the point that Birdie wasn’t sure if he had heard her. Then he simply moved beside her and grabbed the rolling pin. Birdie was confused for a moment before she began to giggle.

She set the dough before him with a smile before turning to melt the butter. It was endearing to see such a large dwarf trying in earnest to roll out a square of dough that seemed to like to stick to the pin. Birdie took pity on him and sprinkled more flour on the countertop. When she wiped her hands off on her apron and turned to tend to the stove again, she found Balin had come into the kitchen and took her place.

“We might as well lend a hand, I suppose,” Balin told her with a smile. “Not that my brother is much help,” He teased. Dwalin’s head shot up from where his dough was looking a little worse for wear. As Birdie listened to them feud in a half-playful manner, she was reminded of seeing the same scene many times.

Her father was the prize baker of the family while her mother was more adept at cooking and likely to burn cookies. Her father had always teased her about being unable to bake anything but lemon squares, in which she excelled beyond him. Birdie’s heart ached as Dwalin laughed in response to his brother and when Balin threw her a wink.

The cinnamon rolls did get made, although they may have been a bit less well-formed than usual, and the fire in the living room was banked for the night. Dwalin and Balin both refused to let her sleep on the sofa or in her armchair and instead set their bedrolls on the floor of her room.

“I don’t want to deprive you of a real bed,” She protested.

“And we don’t want to take away yours,” Balin insisted.

“There won’t be many of them ahead.” Dwalin agreed.

And so, Birdie found herself lying awake for a time with the soft snoring of two dwarves on her bedroom floor and found that she had enjoyed late-night baking with them. They were a pleasant sort and Birdie felt optimistic about the upcoming adventure.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning as Birdie served the cinnamon rolls, she found that Dwalin’s sweet tooth did not stop at her grandmother Baggins’ oatmeal raisin cookie recipe. She also noticed the soft swell of pride in her own chest whenever someone complimented them because it was made of their combined efforts and not just her own. It was an easy partnership, she thought with a smile.

It continued over the journey, of course. A soft smile directed at Balin when he shared some choice wisdom or a great story. He was very good at speaking and could weave amazing stories. Often Birdie and Balin would be engaged in a battle of tales where each would top the other until they became so outlandish they hardly made sense any longer.

It was a bit different with Dwalin, who was less vocal and a bit gruffer. He didn’t say much when he’d take an extra log from the stack in her arms, regardless if she was struggling with it or not and she noticed that he would take care in clearing away and brush and rocks before she’d set down her bedroll.

When it was raining heavily for what seemed to be hours, Birdie had been very regretful that her cloak wasn’t a particularly well-made one and that it was far too long for her to return to Bree to purchase a better one. She was in the midst of her misery when a wet, but less damp than her own, cloak was placed over her shoulders, and a hood was drawn up over her curls.

“We don’t need you catching cold,” Dwalin told her before letting his pony drop back to the pace of his brother’s. Birdie smiled and thanked him and spent most of the day gently touching the lining and smelling smoke and something else she couldn’t name in it.

Most nights, as the fire grew taller and the stars began to shine, Birdie would find herself sat between the pair, listening to Balin’s tales and listening to Dwalin’s soft harrumphs when Balin tells a tale a little too tall. They seemed to not mind her company too much when one day was particularly tough she even found herself leaned against and sleeping on Balin’s shoulder. She apologized profusely for it and he teased her about it sometimes later but in a gentle way that told her that he had hardly minded.

Birdie hadn’t thought much about their time together until after the ordeal with the trolls. After she had foolishly been captured by them and the company was fit to be tied, literally and figuratively, Birdie found herself looking for them amongst the shapeless sacks. When she cried out about how rosemary and sage was the way to properly cooked dwarves, she looked to them pleadingly to go along with it. It was the stern, assuring look in Dwalin’s eyes that enabled her to square her feet and to stand her ground until Gandalf arrived.

They had no time really to rest before they were chased off by wargs and were dropped into the cave that brought them to Rivendell. Once there, Birdie found herself a little amused that Balin was the one to pull her behind him when the elven delegation startled the company. While she was a bit reluctant to part from the group, she was very pleased when an attendant showed her the female baths.

Birdie took care to wash over a fair accumulation of dirt and muck, including the disgusting troll mucus that had dried on her in clumpy flakes. She carefully brushed out her hair on her head and her feet and took use of the gently scented lotions and oils. She was not alone in the baths and the other elven maidens were not shy about speaking with her. The talk was gratefully not about travel as it was about being able to take care of oneself afterward. One of the younger elf maidens offered to braid her hair for her and Birdie agreed with the forewarning that her hair could be very unruly.

However, it had been managed and her red-gold hair was braided in a long, thick plait. The girls had managed to weave in small violets and pansies to accompany the scented oil in her hair although she could never fathom how they managed it. When Birdie went to dress, the elves refused to let her redress in her soiled travel wear and instead took the clothes to be washed and Birdie to be fully outfitted.

She felt almost like a doll as they held dresses out to her, dresses that she was very sure were theirs from childhood at the very least. Birdie had to reject a fair few of them simply because they were far too long for her and she’d rather not trip and fall into a fountain. They ended up choosing a dress that had a soft forest green overlay with white skirts underneath. The overlay had a high collar that was open to the shift beneath and there were no sleeves but rather a thin veil that attached to the front of the shoulder and the back of the collar to create a cape.

Of course, the elves didn’t let her leave before borrowing her a necklace and an anklet, which she was suspicious was really a bracelet, to take to dinner. It would make such a statement they insisted and it really seemed like it when Birdie entered the dining hall. It had seemed like everyone had already begun since the elven maidens had taken so much time on her, but when the first dwarf noticed her it became a chain reaction of jaws dropping.

Birdie ignored it for a bit as she took the empty seat saved for her between Balin and Dwalin but she found herself a little flustered when she noticed the intense stare Dwalin was giving her. She turned to Balin for support, who gave her a bright smile.

“Don’t mind them too much, dear.” He told her. “It’s not often that we see a beautiful young woman dressed like you. Many dwarrowdams take to wearing men’s clothing now for traveling.”

“I see,” Birdie said as the conversation began again around them. Her face was still a little red and she couldn’t help but think as to why Dwalin’s reaction made her feel so shy and why Balin’s made her feel both happy and a bit disappointed. It wasn’t until they were halfway through the second course that she realized that the feelings were that she liked the attention Dwalin was giving her and that she wasn’t so fond of Balin’s slight lack. Why did she care about their opinions in that way so much?

After dinner, she was hardly let out of the company’s sight although she protested at staying with everyone in the alcove they settled on when there were perfectly good rooms that had such nice and very real beds in them. The whole stay at Rivendell seemed to follow the same trend. Everyone needed to stick together as best as possible. Birdie thought it was a little silly but she was also a little worried at getting lost herself, so she would allow Ori to accompany her to the library or to wander through the gardens with Bifur (who had the strangest habit of eating the flowers they’d come across).

The one time she had managed to really be by herself, she had come across the whole of the company anyways. The surprising part was that it was because they were practically frolicking through a large fountain in one of the gardens, naked as the day they were born. Birdie was mortified for a moment at the scandalous thought of using a fountain as if you were birds in a bird bath. Kili, noticing her face, waved at her with a mischievous grin on his face.

“Birdie, come on in!”

Birdie almost yelled back an immediate refusal before something a bit more impish in her changed her mind. What was a fountain other than a body of water? Surely it was not much different than swimming in the creek with her Brandybuck cousins on a warm summer’s day? There were many times she’d done the same at home and everyone else seemed to be having fun. 

“Very well!” She called back. Her dress went over her head and was folded nicely and set aside, unlike the piles of dwarven furs scattered about. Once again powered by some childish force, Birdie took a running start at the pool and jumped in, making sure to splash Kili and Fili thoroughly on the way.

When she bobbed back up, she laughed at the looks on their faces. The laughter died when she noticed the shocked look was repeated on the dwarves around them. Some faces were very pointedly looking away from her. Birdie frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t think you’d do it!” Kili said quickly. “I was only teasing.”

“Well, all of you were in the water.” Birdie said with a pout.

“Not all of us are...well…” Fili started. He made some vague gesture over his chest and Birdie spared a glance to her own. Once pointed out, she could see the difference a bit more. She already knew that some in the company were also female, even if they were referred to as masculine in Westron, but none of the dwarves had quite the same bosom. They were all built in a more muscular way with thick chests while Birdie was a bit more plump and curvy. Did her breasts bother them somehow?

“It is alright,” Nori said flippantly. “Don’t act as if you’ve never seen a pair of tits before.” He said to the surprised squeak from Dori. With that, everyone seemed to move past and begin their roughhousing yet again. Birdie pretended not to notice that some had difficulties looking her in the eyes or that others were very careful about where they put their hands. When they were out of the fountain, Dori and Ori ushered her to one side to speak with her for a moment, assuring her that she didn’t need to feel ashamed or anything.

“Pardon my brother’s language, but he is correct,” Dori told her. “There was no reason for everyone to gawp like that.”

“It’s just that dwarf women don’t exactly have breasts like you.” Ori insisted. “They come when a mother is nursing but they’re rarely that...well, big. And you’re a hobbit so I think they were just a bit confused on how to act.”

“I see.” Birdie said carefully.

“I’m sorry if they’ve upset you,” Dori said but Birdie cut him off quickly.

“No, no! Don’t be! I didn’t think much about the differences in the culture.” Birdie explained. “It’s not uncommon for hobbits. Most are more private but many swim together and women feed their children and whatnot. I didn’t think of it not being the same.”

“It is really the same.” Ori insisted. “The men are just silly.”

“Can’t figure out when their looking is too much.” Dori agreed.

“Thank you.” Birdie said with a smile. It may have been a bit trying to have been avoided like the salad at last night’s dinner but it was comforting to know it was more of a cultural issue than anything. If nothing else, it was a bit amusing to see the way Kili’s face would flush if their eyes met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Some fountain frolicking!
> 
> So, one of the aspects of Hobbit culture I'm playing with is the idea of spoken rules vs actual rules. Like, everyone might say that premarital sex is a no-go but you'd just turn a blind eye if you saw some young couples sneaking into the bushes after a party. Going for a swim in your birthday suit is hardly a cause for real alarm although you wouldn't be able to respectably discuss it in public or anything.
> 
> Of course, it's a little jarring for the dwarves involved. Although bathing with different sexes is whatever, a little nude hobbit in the mix is a little different.


	4. Chapter 4

When roaming through the garden by herself on a very rare occasion, Birdie found herself truly admiring the careful craftsmanship that must have gone into planning the gardens. It was very easy to enter a reflective mood, such as when she realized that the feeling blooming under her breast was a deep affection for Dwalin and Balin both. Of course, she had known that she liked the pair, but she didn’t realize that there was that much of a difference between the way she cared for Oin or Gloin versus the Fundins.

She had an easy comradery with most of the group, bonding over teasing and jokes with Fili and Kili and Bofur, and joining Bombur at the stewpot fairly often. It was a different sort of feeling she felt for Dwalin and Balin. She wouldn’t call it love, not yet at least, but it felt like the kindling to much more.

Already in the garden, she surveyed it for the proper message to send. She wanted to show them that she had intentions, even if she didn’t mean to court them just yet. It was proper in the Shire to give a bouquet as a symbol of interest. For an actual courtship, you would need to present your intended a gift with them in mind. Even as Bilbo surveyed the flowers, she wondered what she might make Dwalin and Balin. It was customary to make the gift yourself or to commission a crafter perhaps if the project was larger.

Her own father had done something similar. His gift of courtship had been Bag End. He was not much of a carpenter but the plans had been made by himself with Belladonna the first in mind. It was a grand declaration, one that Bungo always insisted was for her mother regardless of whether or not she accepted his suit. She did, of course, and the rest became history.

Now, Birdie didn’t know if she was quite interested in building a house for the brothers. Afterall, they were on a quest to reclaim Erebor and she doubted that she could spin that as a courtship gift. However, there were other things she could do. Dwalin was a warrior, strong and true. Although she would never dream of replacing his beloved axes, perhaps some smaller secondary weapons would not be unacceptable. A few knives or other small implements. Or perhaps a set of armor? Of course, those ideas were out of her skillset to produce and she did want to make something of her own.

For Balin, Birdie considered his craft as well. As a statesman and advisor, proper utensils would be a pen set and inkwell perhaps. Beautiful parchment or perhaps a bound book? Birdie had not bound her own books since she was tween but perhaps she could do so. Then again, a blank book seemed so simple as well. Whatever should she fill it with? Balin would have many books at his disposal when Erebor was reclaimed and Birdie wanted her courtship gift to be special.

Of course, it was early to be thinking about courtship gifts. Courtship gifts were akin to proposing marriage. There was the actual proposal of course but it was generally understood that a courtship gift was where you really made it clear that you intended to marry your someone or someones. Most hobbits only spent a year ‘officially courting’ and many considered the formal courtship to be for planning the wedding.

For now, Birdie would focus on her bouquet. Birdie only felt a little guilty for taking from the gardens of Rivendell but just a slight bit of pruning wouldn’t harm it too much. She gathered two small bouquets, tied off with a long blade of grass. Birdie didn’t know if the language of flowers meant anything to dwarrow, or if they even knew of it, but she hoped it was at least a pleasing arrangement if nothing else.

It didn’t take too much to get the boys away from the group, leading them out to a more secluded balcony. They both had been engaged in a discussion with the Ur family but were quick to listen to Birdie. It was sweet of them, how they always took care to hear what she had to say. Once on the balcony, she took a moment to look at them again and couldn’t help but smile.

They were so different, the two of them. Where Dwalin was firm, Balin was gentle. However, Dwalin also had a sweet side when you could coax it out of him and Balin could be so very stubborn as well. It had hardly been long since she met them but Birdie felt like she had known them forever and for no time at all. There was so much more she wanted to know about them.

As they waited for her to begin what she had brought them out to the balcony for, Birdie took a few deep breaths. Anxiety stuck itself in her throat, choking the words she wanted to say. ‘I adore you’ she wanted to say. ‘Look at what I made for you’. Chamomile for patience, daisies for innocence and hope, ferns for sincerity, blue salvia for ‘thinking of you’, and tarragon for ‘lasting interest’. In Balin’s, she had slipped sage for his wisdom and Dwalin had received thyme for his strength.

“It’s a tradition in the Shire to give flowers to show your affection,” She told them finally, giving them the bouquets. “I hold you both dearly and I wanted to share this with you.”

Dwalin took his bundle carefully as if he would crush all the stems by accident. It looked small in his hands and yet he held them with a sort of reverence. Balin looked over the flowers for a moment with a smile.

“This is a lovely tradition. Thank you for sharing it with us.” He told her and Birdie beamed inside that her affections were received. It wasn’t exactly a yes or a sound kiss, but it was certainly not a dismissal. She also wasn’t going to press for a hug or kiss if those just weren’t ways they displayed affection or if traditions were a little different with dwarves. After all, they did butt heads as a greeting sometimes. Perhaps that was something that Birdie could do without, lest her hobbit head be cracked open.

Birdie still tried to slip her own methods into their interactions. While she, Balin, and Ori meandered through the stacks of Rivendell’s great library, Birdie took care to select volumes that may have been of interest to Balin. She blushed heavily when she once offered him a volume written in Khuzdul that had been written about property law rather than some grand tales she had been hoping for.

Dwalin was a bit different to please. Where his brother was knowledge, Dwalin was strength and endurance. Birdie took to watching him practice, either on his own or in spars with the other dwarves. She was careful to cheer him on and to offer him smiles whenever he looked her way. She also often brought him snacks she had pilfered from the kitchens, and while oatmeal cookies might not be the best food after a workout, Dwalin still took them from her offered hands.

Of course, the boys showed her they cared in their own ways. Balin also brought novels to her and took several long walks through the gardens with her, engaging in wonderful talks about politics and philosophy. Dwalin was the one who threw strong looks at the others if Bofur made a joke that was a bit too insensitive or if Kili made a comment that was just a touch out of line.

Birdie could never figure which of them it was laying flowers on her pillow at night but she could understand the intent even if the flowers were a bit mismatched in meaning. Lemon balm for sympathy was a bit surprising, as was zinnia which meant ‘thinking of friends’. The declaration of love with red tulips and the cheerfulness of chrysanthemums was welcomely received.

Eventually, they left Rivendell and the flowers stopped as the road around them was too rocky to bear much more than ferns. It wasn’t until they were on the road that she found that one of Balin’s thin bound books that he kept important documents in held two dried and pressed bundles of flowers. Birdie smiled to herself before moving the book out of the way and getting the extra flint that Balin had asked her to get out.

There was a terrible commotion once they went through the mountain passing and they very narrowly missed being hit by rocks or tumbling off the mountainside. For a brief moment, Birdie had gone over but before her feet suddenly had no ground beneath them, Dwalin had managed to grab her. He swung her back up onto the path in front of him and kept one arm around her side as if it was a barrier to keep her from falling over the edge again. Terrified and heart racing, she gladly accepted its presence.

They managed to find a cave and everyone was ready to bed down while the winds still howled outside. Birdie pulled her bedroll between the Fundin brothers and curled up quickly. When she felt Dwalin laying on his own beside her, she couldn’t help but shuffle backward a touch until she was up against him. She waited for any signs of disapproval but she only heard his deep and steady breathing, as well as the rising of his chest pressed against her back.

Birdie had a small hope that Balin would move closer too but he stayed where he was rather than joining the pile. It was disappointing but there needed to be gradual changes and not everything all at once, Birdie thought. They could hardly just jump into everything before dipping their toes in. Comforted at least by the solid warmth behind her, Birdie found a momentarily peaceful sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Birdie had hardly been asleep for an hour before the ground gave way under them. Her sleeping partner had grabbed her around the waist as they fell and Dwalin was able to roll well enough upon landing that Birdie wasn’t too terribly knocked around. Their surprise was even greater when they were set upon by goblins. She had barely registered Dwalin removing his arms from her to attempt to fight and in a flash, the group was dragged away.

Birdie realized that none of the goblins had gotten her, or at least not yet. She grabbed two of the bags laying before her and a discarded knife before running after the company. She only made it part of the way before a terrible goblin plopped down in front of her gnashing its teeth. Birdie tried to fight it off with her knife but in the process, both she and the goblin tumbled over the edge of the bridge.

She did not know how long it took to wake up at the bottom of the crevasse but she imagined it must have been a while. She had been lucky enough to have landed on the packs she carried while the goblin had hit rocks instead. Birdie found her way out of the mountain, but only after riddling with a strange creature whose magic ring seemed to hide her from anyone’s sight.

Once she was out of the mountain, whole if not a little scratched, she thankfully managed to find the company, who had just begun to voice their concerns of where their burglar had gone off to.

“I lost track of her,” Dwalin admitted.

“I didn’t see her after the goblins got the rest of us,” Ori said.

“She was tussling with one of ‘em,” Bofur said. “I don’t know if she won.”

“I’m here!” Birdie cried, breaking into the clearing. Dwalin was closest to her so she gave him a quick squeeze of the arm. Before she could do the same to Balin, a very familiar roar rang out. Then they were on the run again. The wargs followed them out to a cliff where the company could only climb trees to try and escape. Gandalf lit pinecones and Birdie took several of them to launch at the foes. When the trees began to collapse as their roots were burned, Birdie found herself dangling over the edge of the cliff.

She had only just managed to pull herself up when she saw Thorin facing Azog and his white warg. Azog was his mortal enemy and the orc had no qualm about slaughtering Thorin where he stood. Thorin was now on the ground, injured and prime for being picked off. Birdie had only gotten her feet back under her when she found them running. She threw herself between Azog and Thorin and quickly stabbed her found knife into the warg’s eyes, cutting deeply.

The blindness of his mount threw the orc off for long enough to make an escape as great eagles plucked the company from the ground. When they landed, she was both scolded by Thorin for being reckless and strangely complimented for having done far more than they ever expected of her.

From their new vantage point, the peak of the Lonely Mountain rose in the hazy distance. It was a message of hope and Birdie almost cried at relief and disappointment. They were so close and it was still so far away from them. Yet, when she turned to see her boys’ faces, she knew her feelings were nothing compared to theirs.

Climbing down from the carrock took some maneuvering, and more than once Dwalin had simply picked her up and set her onto the next step down when it was a bit of a jump for her. It had taken most of their time before sundown to get to the base, so they simply set up camp there with the carrock to their backs.

After a fire was built, a pot of stew was begun from what scant bits remained in the packs that Birdie and a few others had been able to hold onto through the day. Thankfully Bofur had managed to grab Birdie’s pack, although she felt a bit saddened that his own pack was not one of the ones grabbed. He told her that his hat and his whittling knife were on his person, so that was all that had really mattered.

Birdie took her bar of soap out of her pack and shaved off pieces to give to each of her companions. Dwalin had gone to get another load of firewood so Birdie gave his shavings to Balin.

“I’m going to wash up, so would you be able to give these to Dwalin for me?” She asked and Balin nodded.

“I’m sure he’ll be glad to have them,” Balin smiled. “It’s good of you to share.”

“Of course I’m sharing!” Birdie said. “How else could I travel with you lot if you all smelled like warg blood?” She laughed.

The river was cold, likely fed by mountain streams, but Birdie was able to find a spot upstream that didn’t have a strong current. She could swim a bit but she didn’t dare trust herself to plunge right into the thick of it. She’d be far more likely to be swept right down the river and past the camp entirely, and what a sight it would be to see the company burglar bobbing along like an apple in a harvest festival game.

Birdie gratefully shed her clothing and hopped in all at once to get it all over with quickly. She nearly screamed when she surfaced from the coldness but managed to hold it in. She took to scrubbing her skin down, getting the dirt and dust and black orc’s blood off. She had only just begun the lather the soap when she heard rustling behind her. Suddenly reminded of the orcs they had just escaped from, she whirled around to find Dwalin with a very peculiar startled look on his face.

“Oh thank Yavanna,” Birdie sighed with relief. “I thought you were an orc or a bear or something.”

Dwalin didn’t answer immediately but just turned around very quickly. Birdie was confused for a moment until she put together that what she could see of his face and the shell of his ears were bright red. It was a similar reaction as in Rivendell. It was kind of cute that he would react like that still, she thought. A naked form was hardly anything to fuss at. 

“I hadn’t... realized you were bathing,” Dwalin said. Birdie nearly giggled at that. Did he expect her to be giving herself some sort of sponge bath?

“You can come in, dear.” She said. Birdie didn’t usually bathe alone with a partner, but this was a bit of an exception. They had an established relationship, or at least the start of one, so it would hardly be frowned upon. In fact, the idea of bathing with her partners was beginning to intrigue her. Still, she could see that Dwalin didn’t seem to want to turn back around anytime soon, and for someone who resembled a bear, he seemed much more like a rabbit ready to bolt. Birdie pouted, even if he couldn’t see it.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to,” She insisted. “I’ll just finish up,”

Dwalin didn’t turn so Birdie just finished washing herself off before coming out of the water and redressing. She squeezed the water out of her hair for a moment before tapping Dwalin on the shoulder.

“The river is yours,” She smiled. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“I am alright,” Dwalin said.

“Thank you for keeping watch anyways, darling,” Birdie said before planting a quick kiss on his cheek. That seemed to make him grumble more but Birdie left to go back to the campsite. She sat next to Balin, who had already spread out his bedroll next to her pack. Birdie unrolled her own and then sat to work on untangling her hair with her fingers.

“Do you need a comb?” Balin asked, showing her the one he held in his hands.

“Oh, no,” Birdie said. “I have my own, I just hadn’t taken it out yet.”

“If I have one out already, you might as well make use of it,” Balin said, handing the comb to Birdie. Birdie looked at it for a moment. It was made of some sort of smooth stone and light runes were etched in it. It looked very much like a dwarven comb, unlike her thick wooden one.

“Would you mind…” Birdie began. “Would you mind combing it out for me?” She asked. Her hair hadn’t been handled by another for many years since her mother had declared her a touch too big to be sitting on laps anymore. Well, aside from the elven fingers that had done so in Rivendell, but that was a touch different.

Balin looked shocked for a moment but smiled brilliantly and nodded. Birdie moved so she sat in front of Balin, hands placed on her crossed ankles. Balin’s hands were gentle, carefully running over her scalp and tugging out the knots that were inevitably formed by her curls. It was hardly anytime before Birdie realized that Balin had begun carefully sectioning her hair.

“Do you mean to braid it?” Birdie asked.

“Aye,” Balin replied. “Tis a suitable way to keep it out of your face,”

“I suppose,” Birdie laughed. “Just make me look nice then.”

Balin had indeed done a fine job. He crafted four smaller braids and wove them together at the nape of her neck to create a low bun.

“I would have used beads or such if I had them,” Balin said with a smile.

“Perhaps we should use flowers then,” Birdie suggested. “When we have the light of day to see them,”

“Perhaps.” Balin agreed.

Dwalin returned from the river shortly after and Birdie smiled at him.

“Look what Balin did for me,” She said cheerfully, turning her head so the braiding was visible. Dwalin nodded slightly but didn’t quite meet Birdie’s eyes. Birdie almost laughed but decided that would be a bit too mean. As she watched Dwalin move around the fire, Birdie realized that Dwalin was one of those whose packs were lost, either in the goblin’s caves or on the cliffs.

Birdie looked down at her bedroll and decided that while there really wasn’t room for three, there should be enough for two. Sending a silent apology to Balin, who would do well enough with his own bedroll anyways, Birdie went to Dwalin and took his hand. It wasn’t until she began leading him back to her bedroll that he began to stop her but she quieted him.

“I’m happy to share it with you,” She insisted quietly. She didn’t want to alert the company, most of whom weren’t paying much attention. There was no doubt that they would all be making fun if they found where Dwalin would be sleeping and Birdie didn’t wish to embarrass him anymore.

Somehow, Birdie managed to get Dwalin into her bedroll, tucking herself under his arm. Birdie smiled at her triumph and looked at Balin who shook his head and chuckled. Birdie went to outstretch her hand to grasp his, but without noticing she was doing so, Balin turned over faced away from her. Birdie knew he hadn’t seen but she still felt a little hurt.

Why was Balin like that sometimes, she wondered. He’d be kind as ever and braided her hair tonight, but he seemed to reject some of her other shows of affection. Perhaps that was simply his nature, Birdie thought again. They simply hadn’t found their groove yet. It would all come together and she’d learn what ways Balin showed his own affection. Maybe it was hidden in his shared wisdom or the way he looked at her with an amused smile and a “What are we going to do with you, Birdie?”.

Birdie tucked herself further against Dwalin and turned herself to face his chest. She could tell he was tense about sharing a bedroll so she gently ran her thumb over his hand and hummed a little tune that her grandmother sang when she was tatting lace. He eased by the time Birdie found herself too tired to fight sleep.

When she woke up, she was alone but the bedroll was still warm and had been carefully tucked around her. Birdie contented herself with watched Dwalin clear up the campsite while she could see Balin speaking with Thorin a bit further off. Birdie touched the braids in her hair and wondered if Balin would redo them later or if she could convince Dwalin to do it.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Gandalf guided the company to a friend of his, and along the way, Birdie managed to convince Dwalin to braid her hair twice. The first attempt was a side-braid that was still a little lopsided. The second was two small, thin braids from her temples that looped to the back and a large, thick rope down her back.

“My brother is not one for intricacies,” Balin told her one night as he was weaving several small braids close to her scalp that would join to make a larger, seven strand braid. “He never had the patience for it.” Birdie didn’t comment that Dwalin had seemed to not mind when she would toss a comb at him and plop in his lap. Of course, Balin never had either, although he still slept facing away from Birdie.

Upon their arrival to Beorn’s, Birdie was glad to have another chance to relax a bit, even if the host insisted on calling her Bunny. The gardens were beautiful and the meals were filling even if they held no meat and more sweets than was probably good for her. It was still a moment to rest and Birdie took to sitting in the garden when the sun was out, digging her toes into the loam and soaking up the light. Sometimes she had the company of one of the dogs or the gigantic bees that Birdie prayed weren’t prone to stinging. The third afternoon of their stay, Birdie was joined by Balin who sat next to her. Birdie had been singing a bit of a lullaby and was a bit startled by his appearance, but she finished anyways.

“That was lovely singing,” Balin told her and Birdie pushed his shoulder lightly with a blush.

“You flatterer,” She said.

“I aim to please,” Balin said with a smile.

They sat for some time, enjoying the sun on their faces. Birdie thought for a moment of scaling one of the apple trees as if she was a faunt again. Or maybe she should go inside and see if one of the dogs would let her have access to the kitchens. Some poppy seed muffins would be divine right now.

“I wanted to speak with you,” Balin said. “About you and Dwalin,”

“Yes?” Birdie asked, a little confused.

“I understand that you have been very close and I wanted to tell you that I approve of your relationship,” Balin said and Birdie blinked once. Twice.

“Our relationship?” Birdie asked.

“I do not ask that you deny it,” Balin said. “It would be rather silly to do so. There are few that are unaware of it. I know my brother has troubles expressing his feelings but you should not let that stop you.”

“But what about you?” Birdie asked. Her stomach began to feel heavy, like the rest of the innards decided now was the time to gang up on it.

“I already said,” Balin said. “I support you and Dwalin being together.”

“Are….are you rejecting me?” 

“Birdie, I-”

“What about you?” Birdie asked again, feeling distraught. “Did I make you feel uncomfortable? I wish you would have told me sooner - I only wanted this to go well.” Birdie could feel tears welling up in her eyes and she could hardly see the confused look on Balin’s face. “If you don’t want to proceed with our courtship, that’s fine. I just..I would like to know why. Was it me? Did I do something?”

“What are you speaking of?” Balin asked. “Courtship?”

“Well, I hadn’t really asked yet but I gave you my marks of intentions. I know that doesn’t guarantee courtship but I had hoped that you and Dwalin would be open to it-” Birdie breathed, her 

“Courting? Both of us?” Balin asked again.

“Of course!” Birdie cried. “I gave you both flowers of intention and I intended to give you proper courting gifts after this quest was over! I apologize for getting worked up over it but...I suppose I had my heart set on this is all.” Birdie huffed, her eyes stinging and her chest tight. It was entirely fair that Balin should reject the pairing but she never imagined that he might, as he was so receptive to her affections sometimes, even if he hadn’t always been. She really didn’t want to make a scene and it was fully within Balin’s right to refuse her, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

Balin was quiet for a moment and Birdie fought to keep her chest from heaving. She always got a splotchy face when she cried and her breath would come in uneven hiccups. 

“Birdie, I think we may have misunderstood your intentions,” Balin said slowly. “It is common...most dwarves settle in pairs. Is this not the same for hobbit-folk?”

“Oh goodness,” Birdie said, her eyes wide. The ache in her stomach twisted in shock. “You’re just like menfolk - I hadn’t even - oh goodness I didn’t even consider…” She whispered. How foolish it was of her to not even consider that it could be done any differently. Maybe she hadn’t been as clear as she needed to be.

“Is it common for Hobbits to court more than one person?”

“Yes! Most have triads or more. I had meant to court you and Dwalin both, together-” Birdie stopped. “Does Dwalin think the same?” She asked. Before even getting an answer, she bolted. Dwalin was on the other side of the house, training with Fili and Kili. Wiping tears from her red face, Birdie marched up to them.

“Dwalin, may I borrow you for a moment? We need to speak.” She said with an unusually calm voice. She took him by the hand easily and lead him back to where Balin sat in shock and contemplative silence. Dwalin didn’t say a word but she could feel his eyes on her back.

“It has...it has come to my attention that you may not have understood what I meant at Rivendell.” Birdie began. “I had intended to show that I wanted to show my interest in courting you. Both of you.” She said as she grasped Balin’s hand as well. “Most Hobbits have relationships in groupings and I forgot that you might not do so too.”

Dwalin stood with a stony face that may have been impossible to read at some point but Birdie could see the confusion behind his eyes.

“I care for you both, and I would adore to court you both.” She continued. “I also understand that this is not...it is not usual for dwarrows to do the same. If you wish for me to withdraw my suit, I have no qualms doing so.”

“It is not that we are unamendable,” Balin began. “It is simply a lot to take in dear.”

Dwalin looked to his brother and Balin returned the look. With a little shrug of their shoulders, Dwalin continued.

“I believe we would both be honored to accept your courtship,” Dwalin started.

“We only ask that we have some time to adjust,” Balin said diplomatically.

Birdie could feel the weight shifting out of her stomach and her eyes weren’t stinging so much as they were overflowing now. She smiled, biting her lower lip, pulling the pair in for a hug.

“Thank you,” She whispered.

“What on Arda are we to do with you?” Balin said with amusement and Dwalin chuckled as well.

“You best explain this to the others.” He told her and Birdie winced at the thought of going through the same conversation again. Yet, it would be necessary if it was truly so unfamiliar to them. The first one they spoke to was their esteemed leader, Thorin. It was somewhat awkward for Birdie to explain her mishap but she hoped she explained it well enough. Balin and Dwalin were at either side, backing her up, which was the most comforting part of all.

“You have agreed to this?” Thorin asked, his tone level.

“Indeed.” Balin agreed. “I’ve found myself to be rather fond of Birdie, and she of us both.”

“We are on a quest and it cannot be expected that a courtship will go exactly as planned,” Thorin said carefully. Birdie knotted her hands in her skirts.

“Agreed.” Dwalin said. Birdie watched as her intendeds nodded and she bit her lip.

“I will agree to your courtship but I ask that you wait for courtship gifts until after Erebor is secured.”

“That seems a wise enough decision.” Balin agreed. He leaned down to whisper to Birdie for a moment. “The courtship gifts mark different stages in courtship. Thorin is asking for us to stay in the initial stage.”

“I understand.” Birdie nodded. “For Hobbits, we give a statement of intention. I have already given this to you both. Then we give a courtship gift, something that is special. It marks the formal courtship period but most consider it an engagement period.”

“By dwarven standards, there are three gifts. The first is also of intention.” Balin started. “Usually something nice, a bauble or such. The second is of courtship, a courtship bead, crafted by your own hand. The final gift is truly two gifts. The marriage bead, and a gift of great value that shows your worth as a dwarf.”

It wasn’t so different, Birdie thought.

“We have already shared gifts of intentions,” Birdie said. “And I believe that we will be able to combine Hobbit courtship gifts and the final gift of Dwarven courtship into one.”

“Waiting until after Erebor is reclaimed, of course,” Balin added. While waiting until Erebor to have that defined relationship would not be so fun, it would be much easier to come up with a proper courtship gift when there were time and resources for it.

With the general approval of their leader, it was time to speak to the company at large. Birdie was loathe to do it. Of course, she did it anyways, gathering the group into Beorn’s hall and standing before them like the matron schoolteacher rather than a small hobbit who was easily a head shorter than the shortest of them.

“I wanted to speak to you about courtships,” Birdie began. “About hobbit courtships. I understand that dwarrow usually meet their partner and stay together for the rest of their lives. Well, hobbits are not very different. Except, we often take with more than one partner.”

The look of confusement and awe traveled across the room like a wave and there was some murmuring in the back. Birdie glanced to Balin, who gave her a confident nod in return.

“Hobbits settle for life but it’s very common for two hobbits to partner and then find their third later on. Or some partner as a trio to begin with. Sometimes couples pair together and sometimes more bond together.” Birdie said.

“More than two? How does anyone have the time?” Dori asked, brows furrowed.

“I could do with two wives, I suppose,” Nori said with a teasing look. “Or two husbands, perhaps.”

“How does that work?” Bofur asked. “What about babes?”

“All children are that of the partners,” Birdie told him. “They will raise it together, so it will be a child of all of them. Who fathers one or who births one is up to them.”

Fili and Kili looked at each other for a moment before Kili raised his hand like they were truly in a classroom instead of a skinchanger’s abode.

“How does this work exactly? How do you start?” He asked.

“Well, it depends.” Birdie answered honestly, shifting in her seat. “Some court as pairs, looking for another person or pair. Others find one person and find another who fits them. The reason I’ve brought this up is that I have presented my courtship to two individuals of the company.”

Eyebrows raised and nearly immediately eyes shifted around the room. Some of the younger looked around suspiciously but many of the older looked directly to where the Fundin brothers were propped against the wall. Dwalin pushed himself from the wall and cleared his throat.

“Birdie is right.” He said firmly. “We’ve accepted her suit and I’ll not be hearing anything about it.” He said with a strong glance across the room. Surprisingly, there wasn’t very much commotion about it, although Birdie did catch some less than enthused glances being tossed about the room.

Still, with the air cleared up and the relationship in the open, Birdie felt much better than she had in quite some time. That night at dinner, she was even more obvious in her affections, holding hands with Balin under the table but one of her feet gently tapping on Dwalin’s leg. Once she gained access to the larders, she made dozens of treats, secreting the particularly good ones for her boys. 

Now that the pair were truly in the know, they became that much more obvious as well, pulling the chair out for her, escorting her as a pair through the land surrounding the farm, and allowing themselves to be pulled around by her whim. When Balin braided her hair, he took to putting in courtship braids, despite no beads to hold it. Dwalin took delight in lifting Birdie up onto the higher chairs at Beorn’s table, despite her protests that she could get up herself if she wiggled a bit.

In the dark of the night, Birdie was pleasantly surprised as a pair of arms wrapped around her waist from behind. Dwalin had already held her from the front so she was well aware of whose arms they were, and although she had been getting better rest at Beorn’s than anywhere else on their journey, she felt even more at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wanted to ask opinions about possibly including smut in the story - would people like it directly in the story, as a side story, or not at all?
> 
> Also, thank you for the support so far. I've been a bit busy lately and haven't been able to update as frequently as I would like.


	7. Chapter 7

The time that the company was able to spend at Beorn’s was perfectly relaxing and well-needed. However, sometimes it felt like the eye of the storm to Birdie. They had come so far, farther than she had known any of her people to have gone before, but there was still such a way to go. Erebor was peering at them from afar, and even though it’s sight was blocked by thick forest growth, Birdie knew that the dwarves were all itching to move along.

The idea was somewhat silly to her. They were on a timeline with the reaching the mountain by Durin’s Day and whatnot but there surely must be a bit of wiggle room within? Still, she ended up watching a sparring session or weapons being carefully maintained more often than she was treated to a song or dance.

It may just be due to a difference in culture, Birdie thought one bright morning as she crept out of bed to find that Dwalin and Balin had both slipped away from her to recheck their supplies. Hobbits were hardy but easy-natured people. After the day’s work was done, it was time to enjoy the work. Dwarves were toughened and Birdie didn’t doubt that they loved and laughed just as hard, but with the pressure to provide for a people who had nothing for a lifetime was always held above their heads. Even when their goal was in sight, there could be no stop in their progress or else Birdie thought that they feared they would lose it.

She admired the determination and the passion in which they felt yet she still longed for a time when there could be a simple ease over the group. For them to be unwound like a contented barn cat instead of coiled and anxious like a startled tom would be wondrous. Birdie decided that was a task she must undertake for herself as the only one who seemed willing to sit in the light for a time.

Birdie took care of embellishing some of the tasks that needed to be done. Food needed to be made, as a horde of dwarves needed to eat, but it could be improved in taste. Green food was detested by many of them but Birdie did her best to tempt them with carefully roasted root vegetables and leafy greens. There was no meat to be had but there was plenty of honey to be baked into loaves of sweet bread and cakes and Beorn and his animals seemed not to mind the use of eggs.

There was always a subtle sense of pride in her gut as she watched her dwarves at dinner time. It was especially amusing to watch Ori, always wary of anything leafy, gladly spearing more roasted brussel sprouts. A full belly was one of the simple comforts that she was able to readily provide and it pleased her to share it.

After the night drew to a close and everyone was well fed, Birdie roused them from the table and offered to teach Hobbit dancing to any who wished to learn. After humming a bit of an old tavern song she knew, Bofur was willing to play something jaunty for her. Kili was the first adventurous enough to take it on and the only so far willing to shed his boots lest he crush Birdie’s toes. The steps were easy enough, lifting and kicking high and with plenty of spins that promised to get the pair twisted together. It was enough to bring Fili into the mix and Kili grabbed Ori’s hands to work out some mangle of a jig.

More instruments were pulled out from their traveling cases and the tune wasn’t exactly Hobbitish anymore, their dancing certainly was not either, but it was still a joyous mix of the two. Birdie was rightly pleased when she managed to catch the quill-worn hand of Balin. Pushing herself close to him, she tried her best to match his steps. After fumbling a few times, Birdie let out a loud laugh as she and Balin both seemed to decide that dancing a bit farther apart was the way to work so she would no longer be tripping over his feet or catching him with her knee. 

When her other partner became available, Birdie was quick to catch him in the fold. Dwalin’s steps were far more stable and less high-kicking than Birdie’s but it matched well enough with Balin’s sure steps. Her hand in each of theirs, Birdie felt like her face with splitting apart with her wide smile. They only had a few brief moments before the song ended and the dancers were a bit more than tired. Exhaling hard, Birdie pressed her forehead to Dwalin’s and laughed.

“I didn’t realize I was dancing so hard.” She breathed. “Wore me right out.”

“If all Hobbits dance like that, I’m sure parties end half an hour after the music starts.” Balin teased and Birdie waved her hand at him with a wry grin.

She hardly left everyone to have a chance to breathe before began to weave stories that she had heard in her youth as well as other she had written when she was older. Encouraged to keep the ball rolling, Nori told a tale or two of his escapades, sometimes earning a few glares when a story had a less than legal turn. Ori was able to recount an old dwarven saga for the group and Gloin had almost started on a story about his son before everyone quickly declared it was time to wrap up for the night.

Birdie laughed as she was whisked away from the front room in the hurry to not be the last and therefore the sacrifice to Gloin’s tales. She still felt the warm feeling of happiness when she was tucked under Dwalin’s chin and a thick arm of Balin’s was wrapped around her hips. It wasn’t exactly a Hobbit gathering but it was something that was very special to Birdie anyways.

Although she had believed that her efforts had loosened the group up a bit, the following morning seemed like little had changed as she woke up again alone. Dwarves were all milling about, some work or other in their hands. Birdie was at least a little happy to hear Nori whistling a tune that seemed to be the same as the one from the night before.

As Birdie looked to find her boys, she also took a moment to look over the gardens. They weren’t quite the neatly manicured and set gardens of Hobbiton or the elegant and roaming gardens of Rivendell. Each flower grew where ever it was able to and in its own way. It was still obviously taken care of, as none of the ivies was choking out any of the other plants and the trailing plants were all carefully gathered against the side of Beorn’s buildings. It had its own sense of beauty in allowing nature to have only a gently guiding hand rather than a firm one.

Birdie wondered for a moment what a dwarven garden might look like. Would it have firm rows of plants bordered with stone? Perhaps plants would be patterned in particular designs and formed on trellises of carefully carved stones? Or maybe it would be made of plants that did not need the light for underneath the mountains, such as cave mushrooms.

She was so entranced by her thoughts she almost didn’t see that she was about to walk into the corner of the barn. After a quick look to make sure no one saw her almost walk into a rather large building, Birdie laughed at herself a little. Serves her right for being so caught up in her daydreams.

The door of the barn was heavy, obviously large enough for the very large animals that Beorn kept to be housed. There seemed to be none inside, however, and Birdie largely suspected that Beorn only kept them there when he truly needed to. He didn’t seem to be one to keep animals penned away.

There was a set of stairs to the left that led to the hayloft and Birdie was debating climbing them when she heard rustling from above. Chickens perhaps? Or one of her company? When she ascended, she was pleased to see that it was her boys in the end. Balin and Dwalin appeared to be in a fairly firm discussion but Birdie wasn’t able to catch any of it before they saw her at the top of the steps.

“Good morning, Birdie,” Balin said in a bright tone. Dwalin behind him still looked a bit unpleased.

“Have I interrupted?” She asked.

“No. It’s nothing.” Dwalin said before moving to the other side of the hayloft and looking out the small window.

“Just a healthy discussion,” Balin assured Birdie, putting his hand on her shoulder.

“Is it really nothing?” Birdie asked again. “I understand that everyone needs privacy but if it’s something I can help with, I’d like to.”

“It’s just a bit of a disagreement between brothers,” Balin assured her.

“We were discussing the courtship,” Dwalin answered truthfully from the window. “On boundaries.” Balin shot a look of annoyance at his brother but Birdie gave him a comforting hand on his.

“Is there something you’d like to discuss with me?” Birdie asked again. Balin seemed hesitant, his eyes flickering from hers to his brother’s.

“What forms of intimacy are expected of Hobbits in a courtship?”

“Intimacy? I suppose most of them.” Birdie said honestly, dropping her hand from Balin’s. “In public, it should be fairly chaste. Hand holding and small touches. But in the privacy of the home…”

“There are relations?” Balin said carefully. Birdie could see the shell’s of Dwalin’s ears turning red and Balin looked a slight bit flustered under his composure as well.

“Yes. Of course, it’s expected that you are careful to not have any little ones before the wedding but most are aware of what couplings get to behind closed doors.”

“For dwarrow…” Dwalin began before the words ran dry.

“It is a bit similar.” Balin finished for him. “It is not encouraged but it is not uncommon.”

“Is that what you were discussing?” Birdie asked.

“Indeed,” Dwalin said quickly. “The mechanics.”

“The mechanics? Oh! Of three people?” Birdie asked. “Well, that all depends on how comfortable everyone is.”

“And that is what we were discussing.” Said Balin. “Neither Dwalin or I are exactly comfortable being… close with each other in that regard.”

“Oh!” Birdie exclaimed. “I wouldn’t have assumed you would be! I understand that it is very different for you two, coming from different cultures, and I don’t want to push you in any way. What is comfortable for you is comfortable for me.”

Balin and Dwalin shared similar looks of relief. Birdie hadn’t intended to lead them to think that all their activities would be as a trio, although the thought was rather pleasing to her. Their dynamics would work as they were wont to and they may change as time goes on.

“That clears it up then, lass,” Balin said. “I think Dwalin and I both understand.”

Dwalin nodded sharply, the slight redness still present.

“Then I will take my leave,” Balin said, moving towards the stairs. “I will expect to see you both at dinner.”

“Dinner?” Birdie asked softly. “It’s only just morning.” She said before looking at her partner who seemed even redder. In the soft late morning light, his every feature was highlighted before her and Birdie think she understood what Balin had been getting at.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank everyone who was leaving me wonderful comments during my hiatus. I'd like to say I had some amazing reason to be gone but it was honestly just that the writing light burnt out for a time. I had thought that I would be able to write over the summer but between various responsibilities, I never felt the urge to get a keyboard under my fingertips.
> 
> So, as a consolation, I will be posting a bit more frequently in the near future and our next chapter will be NSFW. It will also be contained in its own chapter so you can skip it if you wish.


	8. NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A NSFW segment between Birdie and Dwalin. You are able to skip if that's not your cup of tea.

“Dwalin?” Birdie asked. She was aware that her unsaid question sounded a bit huskier than she meant it to, her tongue thick in her mouth. It wasn’t that she had never entertained the thought before. In the quiet glimpses of time that she had had to herself, she had thought about the act quite a few times in quite a few ways.

Birdie never would have called herself sexually voracious or anything like that. She had had a few partners in the Shire, a few flings that amounted to not much of anything. But the thought of someone that she was so committed to? That sent her soaring. The differences between any partner she had ever had and her current partners was also intriguing.

Where Birdie was soft and pliable, Dwalin was broad and firm. Dwarves seemed to hewn from the very stone of the earth, rough and steady where Hobbits were malleable like the earth. A nice paunch of belly was seen as rather attractive in the Shire but the hard muscles and thick arms of her dwarves who often send shivers of something down her spine. Even better was the way Dwalin looked at her. He was so apprehensive sometimes, always seeking permission from her and yet Birdie could also see the way his eyes roved over her quickly. His hands were coarse and his actions firm but she knew that there was gentleness in him as well.

His brother was similar and yet his opposite with calm words and a soft smile wrapped around a firmer core. For all their differences, they were creatures of the same heart in the end. Birdie felt a small twinge of guilt that Balin would be left out but she knew that this wasn’t quite something he wanted to share in just yet. It was not their way to spend time with more than one and she also understood that there were similar apprehensions among pairs who were related in the Shire.

There would still be time to work it out, Birdie knew. Perhaps it would be this way, with a sense of being shared by her partners or maybe the relationship would evolve into something a bit different. It was always exciting to think about but for now, it was between Birdie and Dwalin with Balin absent. So she would have to bring twice the effort in for him, she thought as her hands wrapped around Dwalin’s neck and thick hands curled under her thighs to lift her up.

It was a bit rough with noses bumping and hands unsure of where they should go. As her back met the sharp and prickly hay of the loft, Birdie moved her hands to the side of his face to guide him. His hands stayed on the underside of her thighs, warm and firm. Birdie could feel a bit of a shudder as she adjusted her legs underneath him and slid one between his own legs.

“Birdie.” Dwalin said with a touch of warning.

Pulling away for a moment, Birdie was amazed at how his eyes looked, so warm and deep and utterly full of lust. It was as if she saw stone melting before her under her fingertips. Brushing her forehead against his, she huffed out part of a laugh, one of her hands trailing down from his broad shoulders to his mid back.

“We’d probably be better off easing into it a bit,” She laughed, pressing her cheek to his and feeling Dwalin’s breath roll across her collarbone. “Just let me know what you like.”

She could feel a nod of assurance from him as her hands smoothed up his back, feeling his broadness. Birdie pressed against him a touch, nuzzling into his neck. Dwalin’s hands moved a touch to support her. Birdie placed her own hand over his and moved it up the curves of her body, giving him her own approval.

As his hand glided against the small of her back, she couldn’t help but to arch into his touch, pressing a kiss into the bend of his neck. When she felt his hand trail around the edge of her corset, Birdie pushed him forward slightly to assist in loosening the stays. She felt a small spark of something unnamed when he pushed the garments aside and a bold hand moved up the hem of her bodice. He had seen her before in a state of undress, both in the river and at bed when her corset was not set firmly, but now he was looking at her as if he had never seen her before. It made her tense slightly, unsure of exactly how he would proceed.

Dwalin’s hand felt warm and somewhat coarse as it trailed up her stomach. She held her breath as his hand touched the underside of her breast and then slowed. Looking at her partner and his deep eyes, Birdie nodded her yes and he moved along.

His hand cupped her breast, his thumb passing over her nipple briefly. The simple touch was enough to excite her skin and the nub firmed slowly. His thumb passed over it again, teasing it a bit as his other hand moved from behind her to pull her bodice upwards to gather under her chin, exposing her breasts to his view.

Birdie was surprised that after taking a moment, Dwalin moved one thick arm behind her to pull her close and his other hand teasing at her nipple. She was a little more surprised when she felt his tongue drag over the other, carefully circling it. Birdie’s hand found the back of his head, grasping at his hair as he pressed his hips into her’s.

“Dwalin, oh goodness.” Birdie panted.

Pinned under his body, Birdie felt wonderfully helpless to his hands, gasping and squirming when he would twist or tug just a touch or when his teeth would graze her nipple slightly. When he switched sides, Birdie slung one leg over his back, pressing herself as close as possible to him. His head rose from her chest and buried into the crook of her neck with a slight bite as his hand moved to hike her skirt up a little more.

Birdie kept one hand fisted in Dwalin’s hair but used the other help draw her drawers down and to shift them off her legs entirely. Birdie was let down into the hay entirely as Dwalin took off the layers of his furs and shirt. Birdie took the moment to discard her blouse before Dwalin was back on her, licking and nipping his way from the hollow of her collarbone to the curve of her neck.

Birdie took the chance to snake her hand under his remaining clothes, running her hand over the length of his cock. Dwalin twitched against her for a moment as Birdie ran her thumb over the head. After a bit more drawn out teasing, she finally freed him. She put a hand on his chest and pushed, moving him into a seated position before leaning herself forward and lapping at his member. By the sudden groan and fist in her hair, Birdie felt fairly confident, one of her hands grasping his cock at the base and the other moving to please herself.

She let her tongue flutter down the heavy length of him, teasing him before truly taking him into her mouth. It excited her to know that he was watching her and that it was her movements that would undo him. Sucking him deeper into her mouth, she could feel him pressed against the back of her throat and she could feel the restraint in his thighs which excited her even more. When she could feel him curled up above her, one hand in her hair and the other reached down to grab a free breast, her movements only became faster.

“Birdie… Oh Mahal…”

His hips gave one quick buck as her only warning before he came and it was just enough to send her over the edge as well. Birdie pulled back, still using her hand to jerk him off in the same rhythm as she was playing with herself. As the last of her was spent, she rolled back onto the hay, a little breathless as Dwalin laid beside her. Birdie tucked herself under his chin, her feet curling up around his legs.

“You know, next time let’s not do it in a hayloft.” Birdie laughed. “The hay is less than comfortable and I’m going to be pulling it out of my hair for weeks now.”

“I suppose we could arrange that.” Dwalin said. “Maybe we will have it braided before hand.”

“You know,” Birdie said with a grin. “Pigtails would be easier to pull on.”

Birdie just laughed as Dwalin gave her a gentle swat on the thigh.


	9. Chapter 9

 

Even after doing her best to brush out her hair with her fingertips, Birdie knew she was walking out of the barn with hay in her hair and a bodice that was slightly off-kilter. Balin took pity on her when she returned to Beorn’s house and sat her down with a proper brush. As he brushed out her locks and started weaving a few slim braids, Birdie sighed a bit of relief.

She had to admit that she was a touch worried about what he would think. It was one thing to say approval and another to truly give it but as Balin hummed a tune and pieced out small strands, Birdie found she didn’t worry very much at all. When Dwalin came back from the barn, a bit ruffled and red around the face, Birdie had him sit in front of her as she tried her hand at a thick rope of a braid, laughing when Balin handed her a chunk of light blue ribbon to tie it off.

Birdie leaned forward to kiss Dwalin’s head when she finished before turning her torso as far as she was able to give a similar smooch to Balin as a thank you for the elegant crown braid he gave her. Of course, duty called as always, so Birdie had to shoo both of the boys away to count inventory or something or other. While their stay at Beorn’s was a chance to rest, it as also a chance to prepare for the journey ahead.

In the meantime, Birdie took to making some traveling provisions. The fruit that Beorn provided would take time to dry in the sun but keeping low lit coals in the oven helped her prepare it for their travels. Mixed with nuts that her dwarves were more apt to eat, it would be good for quick snacks as needed. Birdie had her hands wrist-deep in a batch of waybread when she found that she had visitors.

“Good afternoon!” She said to the dwarves in the doorway.

“Good afternoon, Birdie,” Ori said softly, his eldest brother behind him. “What are you working on?”

“Just some waybread.” Birdie insisted with a wave of her hand, careful to not fling dough across the kitchen. “Something hardy for when we don’t have access to such a wonderful kitchen.” She turned her dough out onto the floured counter, ready to roll.

“I’ve heard the elves have something like that. Is it their recipe?”

“No, it’s a Hobbit recipe as far as I’m aware.” Birdie said. “I haven’t exactly gotten much of a chance to look at an Elvish cookbook.”

“I doubt Elves have any wealth of good recipes,” Dori commented. “If their fair in Rivendell was any indication.” Birdie stopped rolling for a moment, a little miffed at the comment. Perhaps it wasn’t to everyone’s tastes but the Elves provided ample fair even if it was green. Then again, she was also well aware that their grievances against elfkind were not derived from their cooking so she let it rest in the air for a moment.

“If I may ask…” Dori started. “I am still a bit uncertain about this Hobbit courting.”

“Oh! Do you need more questions answered?” Birdie asked as she popped the first few of her pans into the oven. “There are a lot of subtleties that I’m sure can get easily missed.”

“My larger issue is not necessarily the courting but the behavior,” Dori said. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Birdie stopped for a moment. “You’ve been rather affectionate with Balin and Dwalin.”

Ori shot a look at his brother as Birdie furrowed her brow.

“Yes?” She asked, nudging the oven door closed with her hip.

“I think it’d be best if you refrained for a time,” Dori said. Birdie felt something hard knot in her stomach.“Until more are used to it.”

“I see.” She said quietly. Dori nodded a bit, but his brother beside him did not.

“Just because you’re uncomfortable, doesn’t mean everyone is.” Ori objected. “I think it’s perfectly acceptable.” He glanced at Birdie with a look that she could only describe as comradery. She returned it with a small smile as Dori admonished his younger brother.

“It would be best to be more controlled, is all.” He insisted. “It’s hardly decent to be so involved in the first stage of courtship.”

“As if it has never happened before.” Ori shot back with a meaningful look. Dori’s fair feature lit up with a subtle blush that Birdie was still able to catch. She had no chance to comment, although she probably would not regardless, before Ori had stomped his way beside her with his sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

“Now, you have to teach me about this waybread,” Ori said, giving no room to the huffs of indignation behind him. 

“Well, it’s fairly simple.” Birdie played along. Once the sound of boots left the kitchen, her false smile fell as well. “Is it really too much?” She whispered.

“Hardly,” Ori said firmly, taking hold of a mixing bowl and spoon. “Don’t be upset because of him. He’s really just unused to it.”

“If Dori is, then maybe others are as well.” Birdie said softly. “I knew it might be a bit much but…”

“No, it’s them who are a bit much, I promise.”

“Thank you, Ori.” Birdie smiled. Ori winked at her before he began mixing the batter. Birdie declined to tell him it was already well mixed.

“It might have been easier if dwarves met up in groups too,” Ori said with a laugh. “We have plenty of old tales of rival suitors that ended badly. Maybe it would have gone better if they all just shacked up.”

Birdie let out a deep laugh at his choice of words and Ori just beamed back at her, clearly aware of his own mischief.

“Maybe it’d be nice to have two fellows around, anyway. It’d be lively at least.”

“Any fellows on your mind particularly?” Birdie asked. 

“What add-ins are we doing here?” Ori dodged. Birdie just smiled back and let Ori pick out from the assortment of dried fruits and nuts. Bilbo was sure that she would get an answer eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so maybe I lied about being more frequent in the last update. Whoops. Here it is anyways!
> 
> Time for some culture friction! Bet you didn't see that coming. Of course, it isn't going to be peachy keen all around but we'll have to burn that bridge when we get to it.

**Author's Note:**

> This work was absolutely inspired by pibroch's Gem: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1194282/chapters/2437125
> 
> You should absolutely take a look at it! I intend to take a bit of a different path in this story but this was the fic that got me started on this trail!
> 
> All NSFW Chapters are marked so you can skip them if you prefer.


End file.
